


incentive

by ohzenitsu



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, but i also can't write kissing well so sorry in advance, everyone has a crush on iruka, he can make ANYONE blush, he's so powerful, like WOW his mind!!, stan kakairu or perish, there's lots of kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 07:30:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18220076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohzenitsu/pseuds/ohzenitsu
Summary: good shinobi get rewarded for good mission reports.





	incentive

**Author's Note:**

> fun drinking game: take a shot every time someone blushes because iruka is baby

Word spread fast in shinobi villages. 

Thus, it wasn’t surprising that every ninja within Fire Country’s borders was promptly made aware of Umino Iruka’s new incentive program to encourage returning shinobi to complete their reports correctly and promptly. The reward for turning in a report that was deemed worthy by none other than Iruka himself was a kiss by the Academy’s most sought-out sensei.

It was amazing how productive shinobi could be when the promise of a prize was within their grasp. 

On paper, Umino Iruka was a good shinobi. He taught pre-genin monsters at the Academy, took evening shifts at the mission desk, and often worked as the Hokage’s administrative or diplomatic aide. Anyone who didn’t have the pleasure of knowing him would think he was just a plain paper-pushing chunin with no motivation for advancement in his rank or profession. 

Anyone who did have the pleasure of knowing him knew that Umino Iruka was no ordinary shinobi. 

There was nothing plain about the quick-witted, shamelessly flirtatious, and kind-hearted Academy instructor. He had an innate ability to make anyone lucky enough to be in his presence melt with nothing other than his voice; he could reduce any battle-hardened jonin to a flustered and bumbling fool with just one of his cheeky grins; and he even somehow managed to make the ANBU guarding the Hokage seem like shy pre-genin when he would thank them for their work with the utmost sincerity. People were drawn to him immediately and once on the receiving end of one of his soft smiles, there was no hope of escape. 

Umino Iruka was one of the most powerful shinobi in the entirety of Konoha and everyone, including him, knew it. 

 

Iruka tried to hide his smug smirk behind the scroll in his hands. The penmanship looked almost printed and every single required section was properly filled out. He almost squealed with glee when he saw the jonin had even signed his name at the end carefully. He rolled the scroll up and tied a blue ribbon around the center before sealing it and tossing it into the B-rank report slot in the cabinet behind the mission desk. 

Once he turned around, he regarded the fidgeting nin in front of him with a bright smile and said, “Would you like your payment or prize first, Aoba-san?”

The dark haired tokubetsu jonin flushed and scratched the back of his neck before nervously laughing. “Ah, prize please, Umino-san.” 

Iruka grinned and motioned for him to step forward with a flick of his finger. Aoba stepped up to the desk shyly and Iruka reached for his vest, tugging him down until they were face to face. The jonin let out a breathless gasp and Iruka’s grin turned cheeky as he closed the distance between them and pressed a soft but firm kiss near Aoba’s mouth. The man in sunglasses looked like he was about to pass out. 

“Welcome home,” Iruka murmured into the warming skin of Aoba’s cheek, his lips curling up mischievously as he heard the tokujo swallow and stammer out a weak response. Iruka slipped the jonin’s payment into a pouch in his vest and patted it gently before releasing and dismissing him with a polite, “Konoha thanks you for your hard work.” 

Aoba stood still with his mouth partially open for a moment, flushed and not knowing what to say, before nodding dumbly and walking out of the mission room looking slightly dazed. 

“You know, this whole incentive program is great and all, but it’s kinda messing up our usual flow,” Izumo retorted from beside Iruka. The scarred chunin turned to regard his friend and deskmate with a twinkle in his eye and a sly smile. He peeked at the line going out of the mission room out of the corner of his eye and couldn’t hide his grin. 

“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it sooner,” Iruka chided, reaching behind his head to tug his ponytail loose so he could redo it. He shook the soft tresses sloppily before he tilted his head to the ceiling, closed his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair to comb out any knots. He secured it with the hair tie around his wrist and heard a choked sound from the line in front of his seat; he perked up immediately and scanned the various faces he could see with concern. He felt almost all the eyes in the mission room on him. The five jonin and chunin at the front of the line all looked crazed as they stared at him with gaping mouths and flushed cheeks, their reports clutched in their fists tightly. Shiranui Genma stood closest to the desk and the senbon in his mouth was dangerously close to falling from his parted lips. Iruka’s head tilted to the side curiously and they all immediately found something else to look at. 

“C’mon Iruka, are you _trying_ to act like this? They look like they’re about to drop dead,” Izumo whined and gave him a flat look as he sealed a scroll from the one person who ventured into his line in the last forty-five minutes. 

Iruka shrugged and smiled impishly. “What, I’m not allowed to put my hair up? Would you rather I left it down?”

He made eye contact with Genma, who groaned when the chunin sent a wink his way, and Iruka’s smile widened.

“Oi,” Iruka called, motioning the jonin forward. “Are you gonna stand in line all day?”

Genma’s ears reddened and he swirled the senbon in his mouth around before sauntering forward and placing his report in front of Iruka with a flourish. He grinned and said, “If it’s _really_ good, do I get a kiss on the lips?”

Iruka opened the scroll and pretended to not notice how Genma’s hand was tracing the surface of the mission desk languidly. “Hm,” he hummed with a tiny quirk of his lips. “We’ll see.” The chunin stole a glance at the jonin and tried not to chuckle when he saw how pink his cheeks were. 

Iruka had to hand it to Genma—the report was _really really_ good; it was even better than Aoba’s, though the chunin would never tell anyone that. He wasn’t normally in the business to pimp himself out just to get some decent reports, but Iruka had to admit that he wasn’t exactly mad at the sudden vigor in which shinobi were completing them.

Iruka sealed the scroll and tied a white ribbon around it, tossing it into the A-rank report slot behind him. He turned to face Genma, who had a wolfish grin, and couldn’t suppress the small smile teasing at his lips. “Payment or prize first, Shiranui-san?”

Genma tapped his chin thoughtfully and mulled over it for a second before regarding Iruka with bright eyes. “Payment first, sensei; I like to save my dessert for last.”

Iruka reached to collect Genma’s payment and when he handed the pouch over, the jonin lightly ran his fingers up Iruka’s wrist and hand playfully. He took his senbon between his teeth and didn’t stop grinning when he said, “How do you want me, Iruka-sensei?” He stepped until his hips were flush against the edge of the desk and towered over Iruka with a devilish glint in his eye. “As long as you’re under me, I don’t mind being bent over a desk.”

Iruka rolled his eyes and tugged the jonin the rest of the way down. Genma’s eyes fluttered closed when he felt Iruka’s breath on the skin under the apple of his cheek. “I like being under lots of things,” Iruka breathed, “but I prefer being on _top_ of a desk.” Genma audibly swallowed as Iruka ghosted his lips across the surface of the jonin’s skin. He made sure to press his lips to the corner of Genma’s mouth softly before slowly teasing a trail ever so slightly across the tokujo’s lips, making sure to keep his mouth close enough so Genma could _just_ barely feel the press of their lips. Iruka hummed and sneakily stole the senbon between Genma’s parted lips before leaning back in his chair, his smirk wide as he kept his eyes on the flustered jonin before him. Genma’s eyes shot open when Iruka cleared his throat and he let out a strangled sound as he noticed Iruka with the poisoned weapon held lightly between his lips.

“When did you- how did- what-?” the jonin stammered, his face darkening to a lovely shade of red that had Iruka practically preening.

Iruka leaned back in his chair and flipped the senbon in his mouth, watching with an amused smile as Genma tracked the movement with his eyes and licked his lips subconsciously. “I’m a little disappointed, Genma-san,” Iruka tsked. “Shinobi should always be alert and aware of their surroundings.”

Genma blanched and his entire body tensed, his face showing evidence of his obvious embarrassment. Iruka watched with a satisfied grin as Genma nodded brusquely before turning around and stumbling as he walked away from the desk. The chunin couldn’t resist the temptation to let the senbon fly at its owner and he and Izumo high-fived when it firmly lodged itself in Genma’s right ass cheek. The jonin yelped and whipped around, his face becoming impossibly redder as the rest of the mission room’s occupants roared with laughter, and before anyone else could say anything, he flickered out of the tower with his head hung in shame.

 

The rest of his shift went by smoothly and Iruka was sure that every single jonin and chunin in Konoha decided to turn their reports in during his 5-hour stint at the mission desk. He lost count of how many kisses he’d awarded but the satisfied smile never left his face; he was, funnily enough, receiving some of the best reports he’d seen in _years_. 

Around the three hour mark Anko slunk up to the desk with what could only be described as a snake-like grin, slammed her report on the desk, and all but screeched, “You absolute _slut_!”

Iruka inhaled deeply and his fingers found the bridge of his nose and rubbed his scar in distress. “Please, Anko, again for the villagers in Kiri. I don’t think they quite heard you.”

He reached for the scroll, expecting it to be her usual illegible scrawl mixed in with splatters of suspicious substances. He was, however, sorely wrong and he couldn’t help but gape at the pristine report that looked as if a master calligrapher had slaved over the scroll for hours and hours, ensuring every detail was perfect. The chunin looked at the violet haired kunoichi with wide eyes and an open mouth. 

“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” she said casually, flicking a non-existent piece of hair off her shoulder. They met eyes and she smirked deep enough for a dimple to form in her cheek. “Don’t I get my prize now, ‘Ruka-kun?”

Iruka sighed and tried to scowl but couldn’t fight the goofy grin threatening to split his cheeks. “If I would’ve known that this was all it took to get you to do your work, I would’ve started kissing you ages ago,” he said as he lightly tugged her down by the collar of her trench coat. She laughed and captured his face in her hands, holding him firmly in place long enough to shoot him a sly wink. He let her pull him closer and giggled when she peppered a trail of tiny kisses on his cheek leading to his mouth. He felt the press of her lips on his, sweet and warm, and he gently returned the kiss. As she pulled away from him, he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged playfully, grinning at how that simple action caused a light blush to spread across her cheeks rapidly. 

“Aw, pink is so pretty on you,” he cooed as Anko growled and slapped his hands away. The blush spread down her neck and up to her ears. 

“Just give me my damn money so I can get out of this sausage fest,” she grumbled, glaring at the grinning chunin behind the desk. Iruka paid her and pinched her side before she walked away, laughing gleefully at how her cheeks reddened. 

The remainder of the night passed by in a blur of wide smiles, flustered jonin, and the sweetest smooches. Iruka didn’t try to hide how happy he was but he would never admit to just how much he enjoyed his shift or else Anko would never shut up about it. He’d received reports fit enough for display in a museum, got to watch a good number of shinobi trip over their own feet as they walked away, and even assisted a kunoichi he was _sure_ was in ANBU after she had a nosebleed so massive she passed out for a few minutes. All in all, it was a good night. 

Izumo had long since gone home when Iruka was awarding the last mission room occupant, a Yamanaka jonin, his kiss. Iruka’s cheeks hurt from how hard he was smiling as the blonde shinobi choked out what sounded like a thank you before disappearing in a swirl of leaves. 

“Crazy jonin,” Iruka chuckled to himself. He got up and was organizing the giant pile of scrolls behind the desk when he heard a soft knock on the door. He turned and saw a shock of wild silver hair peeking out over the edge of the trim on the doorway. Hatake Kakashi. 

His exposed eye arched up happily as he said, “Am I too late, sensei?”

“You made it just in time, Kakashi-san,” Iruka replied, tossing the scrolls in his hand to the side before hopping up and sitting cross-legged on the surface of the desk. He motioned for Kakashi to come closer and the jonin slouched through the door with his hands shoved in his pockets. “Have a report for me?” 

“Mm,” he hummed. “Something like that.” He stopped just short of the desk and pulled a scroll from his weapons pouch. Iruka watched curiously as Kakashi bit his thumb to draw blood before swiping it across the paper of the scroll and completing a series of hand signs too fast to decipher. He almost screamed when what looked like a dozen scrolls materialized and clattered to the ground noisily at Kakashi’s feet. 

Iruka was sure he looked like a gaping fish as he stared at Kakashi, too stunned to think of anything to say. Kakashi scratched the back of his neck nervously and a pink flush stole across the skin of his exposed cheek. “Maa, Iruka-sensei, I thought you’d appreciate my hard work.”

Iruka wanted to say, _“What the hell? You expect me to read all of these right as I’m closing up and then what? Kiss you a million times? You want to just make out all night? Who the hell do you think you are?”_

What Iruka actually said was, “Wanna make out?”

After getting over the initial horror of most definitely _not_ scolding Kakashi for his tardiness in his reports, the chunin decided that the infamous Copy-nin wasn’t as big and bad as everyone claimed. 

After all, how deadly could Kakashi be if he got knocked out cold just at the thought of kissing Iruka all night?

 

Iruka was buzzing. Though at first he’d been extremely pissed off at Kakashi for dumping a small mountain of scrolls on the ground, he’d forgave and forgot and moved on to better things. The better things being the silver haired man’s reports. 

He paced the mission room, carefully avoiding Kakashi’s unconscious body, and read the contents of the scrolls hungrily. He felt like he was on Cloud 9 and couldn’t wipe the giddy grin off his face. 

Normally, Kakashi’s reports, while turned in far and few between, were the bane of every mission desk worker’s existence. His sloppy handwriting combined with his careless technique of not filling out the required sections and penchant for turning them in months after they were due drove Iruka up the wall. The scrolls in the chunin’s hands, however, were the best he’d seen in his entire life. Iruka didn’t even want to touch them in fear of smudging the black ink on the paper. Each scroll contained detailed accounts of every mission and Iruka almost shed a tear when he saw every single section was filled out with the utmost care. 

Iruka couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d been accepting sloppy mission reports from Hatake Kakashi ever since he was sixteen, so the sudden change in quality was enough to throw him off kilter. He’d never admit it, but it was around that time when he started seeing him more often—meaning giving and receiving mission scrolls and reports, respectively—that he began crushing on the jonin. It started out with the mystique and wonder that was the famous Hatake heir, Sharingan no Kakashi, so it wasn’t surprising that he was so infatuated so quickly. Against Iruka’s wishes, it grew into something more as he would bump into the jonin in the village at random intervals; they would always share a few words and Iruka would always learn something new about Kakashi—that he preferred to read up in the high trees near the wall, that his favorite food was eggplant miso, that he would scratch the back of his neck subconsciously when he was feeling nervous, and so on. Iruka wasn’t sure when his feelings grew into the tiny monster tugging at his heart every time he caught a glimpse of Kakashi but he couldn’t have stopped it even if he wanted to. 

He was well into the sixth scroll when Kakashi stirred, rolling onto his side and groaning. He looked around the room for a second before seeing Iruka’s glare and he visibly flinched. Much to Iruka’s delight, Kakashi’s blush returned and seemed to darken the longer he stayed under the chunin’s scrutinizing gaze. 

Iruka took a deep breath before calmly rolling up the scroll and setting it on the mission desk. “Do you have _any_ idea what I am feeling right now?” Kakashi grimaced and stood before slouching into himself and hanging his head. 

“My apologies, sensei,” he said meekly. He looked at Iruka with a hooded gaze and fidgeted in his spot. “But I heard about the incentive program and-” 

Iruka raised his hand to silence him and took a few steps until he was directly in front of Kakashi. The jonin stared at him with a wide eye and yelped when Iruka took hold of his flak vest and pulled him close enough that their noses were almost touching. “Ah, I-Iruka-sensei…?” 

“Why,” Iruka breathed, a heart-stopping grin pulling at his cheeks, “didn’t I think of this damn program sooner?”

Kakashi made a strangled sound at the back of his throat as Iruka pressed his lips against the soft fabric of his mask. Iruka kissed him square on the mouth and let his lips linger for a few seconds before following the line of Kakashi’s mask and trailing kisses up his cheek. The jonin stumbled back a step and Iruka couldn’t help but giggle at how red his face had gotten. He watched with an amused smile as one of Kakashi’s gloved hands came up to his face and his fingers grazed where Iruka kissed him. 

“What- I thought that- why did you- can we-?” 

Iruka laughed again and Kakashi flushed even darker when the chunin pulled him closer. Iruka lightly shoved him until he was half-sitting on the edge of the mission desk and stepped between his parted legs with a devilish smile. Kakashi swallowed and gripped the edge of the desk with his hands, eye never breaking contact with Iruka’s. Iruka leaned over Kakashi and ran his hand over the exposed skin on his wrist, causing the silver haired man to shiver and his eye to flutter closed. His hand ran up the length of the jonin’s arm and came to rest behind his head. He stepped a tiny bit closer as his fingers played with the silver hair at the base of Kakashi’s neck and said, “Would you like to collect your prize all at once or in installments?”

“All at once,” Kakashi said breathlessly. He tentatively raised his hands and lightly held Iruka’s hips, his thumbs rubbing tiny circles into the skin underneath the chunin’s uniform shirt. “Or maybe I could do both…?”

Iruka grinned and pressed into Kakashi’s touch, heart thumping hard in his chest. “I’m sure that can be arranged.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the side of Kakashi’s mouth, his smile widening when he heard the jonin’s sharp intake of air. He gently tugged at the mask on Kakashi’s neck, not wanting to pressure him to take it off if he wasn’t comfortable doing so, and hummed before kissing the spot opposite of his previous one. Iruka ran his nose along the mask and kissed the exposed skin right below Kakashi’s ear, causing the jonin to whine softly. Iruka reared back suddenly with a wide grin and Kakashi’s blush returned full force. 

“Shut up,” Kakashi grumbled. “Get back over here.” He pulled at one of Iruka’s belt loops and urged him closer before reaching up and tugging his mask down to his neck. Iruka allowed himself a few seconds to admire Kakashi’s bare face—the strong curve of his jaw, the fullness of his lips, the line of his scar ending just below his hitai-ate, and the embarrassed flush darkening his pale skin—before leaning down with a shy smile. 

He tilted Kakashi’s head up and let his lips brush above the beauty mark on Kakashi’s chin before whispering, “You’re so handsome.”

Iruka quickly discovered that without the mask, the jonin was wonderfully expressive. Kakashi gave him a boyish crooked smile and the chunin took one look at the flustered, grinning man and knew he was a goner. Iruka giggled yet again, feeling happier than he had felt all day, and finally kissed Kakashi. 

And boy, did he kiss him.


End file.
